Twenty-Three
Susanna
The next morning, I wake up in Teller's arms. For a moment, I panic—did I make a mistake? Did I forgive him too soon?
But then he stirs, his arms tightening around me, and he murmurs, "Morning, beautiful."
And I realize... no. This wasn't a mistake. This was a step forward.
We make love again in the morning light, slower and sweeter than the night before. He takes his time, kissing every inch of my body, whispering words of love and devotion against my skin.
When I come, it's with his name on my lips and tears in my eyes.
Afterward, we shower together. He washes my hair, his fingers gentle on my scalp. I wash his back, tracing the muscles I know so well.
"I have therapy this afternoon," he says as we're getting dressed. "Do you want to come?"
"I have to work. But maybe next week?"
"Yeah. That would be good."
He kisses me before he leaves for work, a long, lingering kiss that makes me want to pull him back to bed.
"I love you," he says.
"I love you too."
And I mean it. I do love him. I'm just not sure if love is enough.
The next few weeks are a dance of two steps forward, one step back.
Teller continues therapy. He comes home on time. He's attentive and present. And the sex... God, the sex is incredible.
It's like he's a man possessed, determined to show me with his body what he can't always articulate with words. He's passionate and intense, his dirty talk a mix of possession and devotion that makes me melt.
"You're mine," he growls one night as he fucks me from behind, his hand fisted in my hair. "Say it. Say you're mine."
"I'm yours," I gasp. "Only yours."
"Damn right you are. I'm never letting you go. Never again."
He makes me come three times that night, each orgasm more intense than the last. By the end, I'm a boneless, satisfied mess.
But it's not just about the sex. It's the little things too.
He brings me coffee in bed on Saturday mornings. He remembers that I have a big presentation at work and texts me good luck. He suggests we take a cooking class together, something we used to talk about but never did.
He's trying. Really trying.
And slowly, so slowly, I feel my walls coming down.